


An Unusual Session

by JRA3933



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crack, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:39:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRA3933/pseuds/JRA3933
Summary: “I’m Dr. Phil. How are you doing today?”They exchanged a long glance. The crossbowman raised an eyebrow. His suit had seen better days, but it was still a suit. Neiman Marcus, custom-made. That always counted for something.





	An Unusual Session

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever written. But what the hell, I had a little fun with it.

The meadow was small, and picturesque. The perfect place to sit and think, to ponder and discover. Tranquil, airy, and quiet. Or at least it had been quiet, until the Biters had come. He watched their approach meditatively. The largest had a chain around his neck, with a locket at the end. A name was engraved on the front, shining in the afternoon light. Perhaps he should bring this up in conversation- it might be of some use.

 

The men came then- two of them, dirty and lean, sprinting out of the surrounding forest. The one carrying a large crossbow had slowed, and shot two of the approaching corpses, one after another. The other man, slightly taller, brandished a long machete, which he brought down hard on the remaining walker’s head. It collapsed bonelessly. The taller man wiped his machete clean, while the other retrieved his bolts. The three bodies were scattered around the small clearing, dirtying the grass. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

They approached him then. “Your welcome.” The taller man had a definite air of authority. He was a leader of some kind then. Or thought he was. Time would tell.

 

“I’m Dr. Phil. How are you doing today?”

 

They exchanged a long glance. The crossbowman raised an eyebrow. His suit had seen better days, but it was still a suit. Neiman Marcus, custom-made. That always counted for something.

 

“I’m doing just fine Phil.” The leader looked him up and down, gaze lingering on the silk tie, the windsor knot snug at his throat, and on the shiny, black shoes. He’d polished them just this morning. They were not the most practical for current times, but one must keep up appearances. He knew just how important consistency was, in a psychological sense. He had no weapons. Words had always been enough, and would continue to be.

 

The leader moved closer, while the other turned to face the forest, weapon at the ready. “My name’s Rick, and this here’s Daryl. We have a few questions-”

 

“Yes, so do I. Young man, how long have you been gang affiliated?” He’d addressed the crossbowman, who turned to face him.

 

“What?”

 

He felt the satisfaction coming now. He had them on edge, surprised. It wouldn't be long now. The right questions, the proper pacing, and the man with the shaggy hair would be in tears. He wished the cameras were still here. “That insignia on the back of your vest- which gang is that affiliated with?”

 

They’re staring at him. The leader-  _ Rick _ was frozen in place, but Daryl approached, slinging his weapon into place over his shoulder.

 

“What the hell’s wrong with ya?”

 

“Well, you seem like an angry young man. I get the  _ distinct _ “ He raised a finger here “feeling that your inner dialogue is not a healthy one.”

 

Lowering himself, he perched on the edge of a rocky outcrop, clasped hands set upon his knee.

 

“Would you like to talk about that?”

 

Daryl looked at him for a long moment.

 

“ _ No. _ ”

 

He raised his eyebrows. “And why might that be?”

 

Daryl twisted his lips, and turned away from him then, addressing Rick.

 

“We ain’t taking him back to camp?”

 

Rick’s eyes looked steely, cold. “No. We ain’t.” They turned away.

 

He called after them “You can leave if you want to Daryl, but  _ if you do _ I can promise that you will regret that. I’m offering you some help here. You can’t always let everyone else make decisions for you. You know at  _ some point. _ You’ll have to make your own way in this life. And I can help you do that”

 

Daryl turned back quickly, but Rick grabbed his elbow, drawing him back into the woods.

 

They moved between the trees, leaves crunching underfoot. He watched them go, tracking their progress until he can neither see, nor hear them. 

 

How uncivilized.


End file.
